Lecelia
by Lorelai Caren
Summary: After being attacked by orcs, rescued by rangers and talking to animals, Mira finally begins getting some answers to her biggest question - what exactly is she? PLEASE READ & REVIEW!!!! ~CHAPTER 13 UP FINALLY!!~
1. The Beginning

PROLOGUE  
  
She grabbed a bow and a half-empty quiver from one of the dead mean on the ground. His blood was still warm, sticking to the handle. From the light of the fires blazing in the distance, she could almost make out his face. It was someone from town, a shopkeeper or a mill worker. The look of complete terror that would be forever frozen on his face only reminded her of her duty. Get up, get away.  
  
She could hear the orcs screaming in the distance. The tears she wanted to cry, the screams she wanted to scream were all caught in her chest. She was choking, but she still kept running. Tripping over the dead bodies strewn all over the field, she headed for the small cluster of trees that bordered the village, now in flames. She scrambled up, trying to get as high as she could. Her hands were throbbing from the scrapes she won from continually falling over the bodies; the tree branches had whipped her face raw. The blood, dirt and sweat formed a hard mask on her face.  
  
Trying to regain her composure, she heaved a few deep sighs while balancing on a branch. They were coming closer. With her shaking hands, she tried to fit an arrow onto the bow. She attempted to aim, but her left eye was swollen shut, and both eyes were teary. Her first shot hit something – she could only pray it was an orc, not one of the few makeshift warriors the town had left. She fired again. Another orc down. His squealing chilled her. They knew where she was now…they were coming for her. Three arrows whizzed by her ear, narrowly missing her head. Their blind shots were coming closer and closer.  
  
"Aaaaahh…." An arrow hit her side. She crumpled, but couldn't afford to fall. The pain was searing through her side, but she managed to shoot another arrow. Nothing. It was unbearable. She was going to die, surely. How could she endure this pain and not die? "Aaaaahhhh…" Another arrow hit her in the shoulder. The screams of the orcs were becoming fainter. Either they were leaving or she was…  
  
"Oh, Caelia. Don't let me die like this. Please don't let me die. Let me…" 


	2. The Discovery

FOR LEGAL REASONS: I do not own Lord of the Rings, and any of the characters that appear in the Fellowship of the Ring, the Two Towers or the Return of the King. However, at this point, I do own the 4 other Ranger characters.  
  
"Hey, Chaser! What do you say to a little song and feasting tonight?"  
  
"Why, Strider, are you willing to dance for us?"  
  
They had been in good spirits all day long. It was rare for so many Rangers to travel together. As much as they each valued their privacy and solitude, it was a nice change of pace to engage in this sort of banter with others just like themselves.  
  
"No, you numskull," he said with a laugh, "the village of Nakyere is only a few hours ride. We're heading in that direction anyway. If we speed it up a bit, we could make it for an early supper. Their brew is the best this end of Middle-Earth."  
  
"Aye, Strider, we've been riding non-stop for the past three days. Even the horses are in need of a real rest. Why have you suddenly stopped pushing us so hard? Anything special waiting for us in Nakyere?"  
  
"Just a good nights rest and a warm meal. Unless of course, you would prefer we continue on without a rest."  
  
His four fellow travelers vehemently opposed this idea, and agreed to hurry up in order to make it in time for dinner.  
  
A few hours later, the five Rangers were coming into the outer area of Nakyere, a small village that only served the purpose of aiding travelers in South Gondor, traveling from the southern bank of the Harnen River on the Harad Road. These days, the only travelers that came through the area were long Rangers, and very rarely, traders from the North that brought down wine and dried weed. The area was mostly desert, fields covered in golden-brown grass and steppes where clusters of low-growing trees and small shrubs were the only vegetation. Despite the arid land, the crops of the area grew rich using the river water. The malt and hops in the area were exceptional, which spurred the rumors of the 'finest brew in Middle- earth.' Any occupant in the area would have assured you that the rumor was completely based in truth.  
  
Although the area was sparsely populated, it could be expected that a traveler would see at least some farm hands or traders going to the market in town. Chaser, the youngest Ranger in the group, immediately sensed something was wrong.  
  
"Doesn't it seem…well…a bit quiet around here?"  
  
"I was just noticing the same thing," Strider replied. " We must proceed with caution."  
  
The Rangers slowed their pace. The smell of burned wood and dried blood soon filled their nostrils. The black fields and crumbled huts were becoming clear in the distance. The silence and the smoke lay heavy on the town. The normally golden fields glistened black, and the stench of death was curling above the town.  
  
The riders dismounted, and led their horses into the center of town. Or, at least what used to be the center of town. It was too silent for there to be any survivors. Any breath would have been heard for miles around.  
  
"Spread out," Strider commanded, hoping beyond hope that his intuitions were wrong and there were survivors, "If anyone is found alive, bring them back here. It looks like the work of orcs, but why so far south?"  
  
The five Rangers did spread out, and with amazing speed covered the areas surrounding the town. There were too many bodies, too badly charred, but each one was checked over. Nothing. The Rangers gathered together again in the center of town. Their heavy heartbeats echoed in the silence. Suddenly, Strider turned his head sharply, immediately alert.  
  
"Did you hear that?"  
  
"What?"  
  
Strider didn't reply, but instead ran off toward the cluster of trees at the far end of town. His perplexed friends followed. Strider ran to the base of the first tree and picked up an arrow. He turned it over twice in his hand, and ran his fingers along its side. Slowly, he looked up. Through the branches, he could see a hand hanging down.  
  
"Come! Help me!" Strider shouted to his companions. Chaser and Jonhe both rushed forward to help Strider pull down the person to whom the hand belonged. As gently as possible, they pulled down from the tree, a young, brown-haired girl with two arrows protruding from her. Strider laid his ear against her breast and then checker pulse.  
  
"She's still breathing. Quick, give her some room! Chaser, fetch my pouch, it's in my saddlebag. Someone go get some water! Hurry!"  
  
The others did as he bid; the aura of leadership about him was too forceful for anyone to disobey. Strider gingerly laid the girl down on a bed of cloaks, and removed her own. Her face was swollen; dried blood had formed a dark layer over her skin. She had gashes in her face, and her dress was torn in many places. Her hands were bruised and bloody, and fragments of pebble could be seen. In one hand, she held a snapped bow, which she clutched tightly to her side. An arrow was protruding from her left shoulder and another from her side. As gently as possible, Strider removed the arrows, taking care not to cause her any more bleeding. Her dress was already soaked in the blood. Chaser returned with the pouch, and Jonhe and the others returned with the water, as well as the few healing herbs they could find in the area.  
  
Strider mixed a concoction of water, herbs, and some fluid he poured from a wooden flask from his pouch. He tore her dress at the shoulder and at the side in order to understand the extent of her injuries. The wounding was not severe, but bruises were already beginning to form. He cleaned her arrow wounds with the mixture, and applied a press of clean cloth. He then took to rinsing her face and her hands, cleaning off the blood and the dirt. She was already beginning to look more human.  
  
"Does anybody have their flask? Ahren, quick, your liquor!"  
  
Ahren, a lithe, fair-haired Ranger held his ever-full flask up to her lips. She swallowed and then choked on its bitter flavor. Coughing, her body heaved to one side, followed by stillness.  
  
"Good. At least she's awake. She may very well be the only survivor. Let's set up camp here. No feasting or singing tonight." Strider turned and walked into the cluster in search of firewood. 


	3. Elf-Slave

FOR LEGAL REASONS: I still don't own any Lord of the Rings characters, but I still own my 4 Rangers, and Miradon.  
  
She woke of hunger, not of pain. She tried to stretch, but was immediately constrained by the pain. A moan escaped from her in surprise. She couldn't be dead; pain this bad could not possibly be part of death.  
  
"Ah, don't try to move. You need to rest if you are ever to heal completely."  
  
Her head turned as far as it could to see who had spoken. Her vision was still blurry and she could only see out of her right eye. It was night and the embers of the fire were already burning low. She could hear the breathing of at least three other men, and they were all asleep.  
  
"What happened? Who are you?" she attempted to speak confidently, but only managed to whisper.  
  
"Don't speak. Save your energy. You were attacked, and you must have hid in that tree to save yourself. We're not enemies, just travelers who were looking for a meal and a song, but found something unexpected. If you're up to it in the morning, we will all explain. For now, rest. It's more important," said the faceless stranger. She thought his voice was soothing, and in fact, it did lull her to sleep.  
  
The next morning, she woke slowly, the scent of food and life filling her nostrils. Although painful, she yawned; she couldn't help it.  
  
"Psst. She's awake!" whispered a voice behind her. Immediately, she felt a flask being held up to her lips.  
  
"Here, drink this," commanded a voice. Not the same one from last night. This one sounded mature, almost regal. The other voice had been soothing and low, not raspy like this one. She complied and swallowed a mouthful of the awful, burning liquid. She coughed, sputtered, and leaned up on her elbow.  
  
"That's awful!" she cried, with as much passion as she could muster.  
  
"Strider," spoke the beautiful voice, "maybe she'd like some real food first."  
  
"You may be right, Chaser. Could you eat something? Are you hungry?" asked the commanding voice, Strider's voice she noted.  
  
"Mmm…yes."  
  
A piece of warm bread was held up to her mouth, and a firm hand supported her head while she ate. When was the last time she had food? All she remembered was burning and yelling, and an incredible pain…and then waking up in the dark, surrounded by strange men.  
  
Her vision was still impaired, but her hearing had always been better than those of her contemporaries. The person supporting her head was the man with the beautiful voice, Chaser. He was humming a tune under his breath.  
  
The man with the noble voice began speaking: "Now, I understand that you're injured and you need rest, but we are faced with a mystery that none of us can solve. An orc attack this far south is very strange indeed. And only this village in particular, the rest of this county has not been touched." His voice was genuinely concerned and she couldn't help feeling melancholy upon hearing him speak.  
  
"Well, I'm simply a servant. The first I heard of the attack was men screaming that the fields were burning. All of a sudden, there was a rush to get pitchforks and swords. We were not prepared for an attack…our village hasn't been involved in a battle since…since before I came. The orcs came quickly. We all ran, but most were struck down by arrows. I…I just knew I had to get up, get away."  
  
"But you had no forewarning of the attack? Didn't anyone see a mass of black coming across the treeless plains? It seems unbelievable," continued the obvious leader, "Workers in the field all day, but no one saw the army of orcs?"  
  
"I can't answer your question or ease your confusion. The attack must have been…oh…two days ago. Right before sunset. Men were returning from the fields and from work. I had just finished baking the bread for supper. And the stew was on the fire. They were just sitting down with a mug of ale when…when they heard the yelling in the town. I…I…can't explain why or how. I'm sorry."  
  
"It's no fault of yours…" began Chaser, "What was your name again?"  
  
"They called me…Miradon…elf-slave," she replied hesitantly.  
  
"Elf-slave? Why would they call you elf-slave?" asked one of the men in the group. She couldn't see him and hadn't heard his voice before.  
  
"Because…well, I am an elf."  
  
The group sat in hushed silence. An orc attack on a village where an elf, the noblest of all creatures, was enslaved.  
  
"An elf? In South Gondor? In Nakyere? A village inhabited only by men?" The questions were flying out all at once.  
  
"Oh, please don't leave me here to die now. I'm so sorry, I never should have mentioned it. I…I will leave you soon, I promise. No more beatings, please." Her tone was feverish and hurried. Clearly, being an elf was something she did not appreciate.  
  
"What?" asked Chaser, still holding her head in his lap. "Why would you ever think that? You are a noble creature, but you are in slavery. It is simply a bit…confusing. How did you ever…?"  
  
"You…all of you…you don't think I'm horrible and disgusting? You don't wish to beat me because of my insolence?" Her voice was quivering and her bruised hands were clenched.  
  
"No! Of course not. We rescued you for a reason, because we were looking for survivors, and clearly you are one. Whether elf or man…or dwarf, we would have supported you and aided you. Being an elf is nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, it is an incredible fate," the leader emphatically replied. Clearly, her situation only added to the mystery. "Perhaps if you feel more rested later on, we will discuss this. Until then, assure yourself, you are safe."  
  
With his permission, her eyes almost immediately closed and her breathing became heavy and regular.  
  
"An elf…here in Nakyere. It truly is a mystery," said the exasperated Strider. He couldn't possibly fathom how an elf could have come this far south, to this horribly dry land. Not only that, but become a servant! "I find that questions must be answered if we are ever to discover what truly happened here. We will set out tomorrow, and head north. I believe that there is only one who has answers for us," he added, casting a glance at the sleeping elf-servant, Miradon.  
  
"But Strider, she's still weak. She couldn't possibly be ready to travel!"  
  
"Hey, Strider, Miradon doesn't mean elf-slave in elfish…does it?" asked Jonhe.  
  
"No, no it doesn't. Miradon is Nakyerean for elf-slave. Their language is a hybrid of many, including Elfish, but also of all the languages to the south. It really is a strange land, and I am truly looking forward to seeing green trees and clear streams again. Now, we still have a whole day ahead of us, let's put our time to good use." Strider headed off and began separating the bodies into piles of orcs and piles of men. The orcs were burned, but the five Rangers buried the men in a mass grave. 


	4. Sharing

Later that night, Strider wandered away from the group of Rangers who were sitting around the fire, sharing tales of their travels. The girl was still resting, but her breathing was now shallow and uneven. He was worried, but knew that as an elf, she would have to survive. She must.  
  
Without even realizing it, he wandered back to the tree where Miradon had hung, wounded and bleeding. He collapsed at its base, and sat with his back to the trunk, and his arms hanging limply over his knees. He leaned his head back and heaved a sigh.  
  
What was wrong with this whole story? Five Rangers meet up in Near Harad, of all places. Not only that, but together, they come across a village attacked by orcs. In the North, orc attacks were common, but it was rare for them to be found this far south, in this heat and bare terrain. And then the elf girl. If she hadn't had mentioned that she was an elf, Strider would never have guessed. Her ears were pointed, that was true, but something about her, something about her spirit or aura was too…human for her to be an elf. Perhaps it was only the influence of living with humans for so long. Nevertheless, something just wasn't right.  
  
Strider was deep in thought, when he was pulled back to reality by the cracking of a branch.  
  
"Who's there?" he exclaimed, his hand prepared to pull his blade.  
  
These people are incredibly jumpy, thought Miradon. "Pardon me, sir, I was just…ugh…"  
  
"Well, what do you want?"  
  
"I just needed to…seek some relief?" Miradon hoped he'd get the message.  
  
"Oh…oh! I'm sorry, please, I'll go back to camp."  
  
"Did I disturb you? I could go somewhere else. Thinking is important, especially in times like these…when reality just doesn't make sense anymore."  
  
Strider skeptically looked at the girl – there was elvish in her somewhere.  
  
"I was just wondering…about many things. The energies of Mordor are not often focused this far south. But in the smaller picture, I was just wondering about a certain elf maid," Miradon blushed "and how she was transplanted from the woods that elves love so much to such a dry, pathetic place."  
  
"The story is far too long, sir…"  
  
"Strider. My name is Strider."  
  
"Strider. I don't believe I have the time or the energy to delve too deeply into my tale."  
  
"Ah, so yours is not only a story, but an entire tale," said Strider, trying to suppress a smile.  
  
"Why, yes sir…Strider…we all have our own tale. No life is a story."  
  
"Well, unless your bladder is screaming out for help, I do not feel the need to sleep just yet, and if you could find the patience to sit with me while I listen to a fascinating tale, I am more than willing to as well," Strider was more than eager to gain some understanding of this mystery.  
  
Miradon looked a bit confused and anxious. Strider was beginning to wonder what her secret was.  
  
"Is there something you are keeping from me?" Strider asked.  
  
She looked him straight in the eye and ran into the cluster of trees behind him. He didn't bother following. 'It's just as I suspected,' he thought, 'she must be keeping something important from us.' Strider was about to go back to the camp when she came running back.  
  
"I'm sorry," she panted, "but I couldn't hold it any longer!"  
  
Strider stared at her in disbelief and then suppressed a smile.  
  
"Very well, if you are ready, I am willing to endure your tale."  
  
"I'm glad you are so eager, for I fear it could not hold your attention."  
  
Strider did not reply, but made himself comfortable. Miradon sat down as well.  
  
"I…I'd like to thank you for healing me. I have bruises, but almost no pain. You are a true healer, like the great kings of old, only in the body of a Ranger."  
  
Strider shifted uncomfortably. How could she possibly know? She couldn't know. She was just insightful, like every elf. Nothing new or important. Miradon did not notice, as her face was still swollen and disfigured, so she continued.  
  
"If you are seeking to know how from whence I came, I cannot answer you. I have no memory of my previous life, if I had one. My first memory is of me stumbling into the town of Nakyere, after having neither eaten nor slept for who knows how long. I did not know I was an elf, but the people that had given me shelter noticed my ears and told me what I was."  
  
"Wait, you're saying you had no idea what you were?" interrupted Strider.  
  
"I had no idea. But they told that I was an elf and that I was not welcome in these parts. Elves were dangerous and inevitably brought magic and danger with them. They told me I could not stay that I must leave town immediately. I had no desire to go – I had nowhere to go. I begged them to let me stay. I would do anything. They agreed to let me stay, but only if I was to become their servant. I would do any menial labor they wished, in return for a bed of straw and table scraps. It wasn't a bad deal. The other servants did not think of me as horrible, I did have friends of a sort. But everyday was the same. Nothing exciting ever happened. Each day was routine, and that routine would never end, whether I wanted it to or not. I forgot that I was an elf and got used to the fact that beating and cursing were things that were done to me, no matter what I did."  
  
"Your life doesn't sound like it had much meaning."  
  
"No, I don't think it did, but it was still a life."  
  
"How did you learn archery?"  
  
"I never did really…women are not allowed to fight. It was just an attempt to save myself."  
  
"But you must have had experience with some weapon…your arms look like they belong to an archer…yet you say you're not one?"  
  
Miradon began to look uncomfortable again.  
  
"Strider, do women fight were you come from? Up north?"  
  
"Most women are comfortable in the home, but there is no definite rule against it…she is free to practice and learn techniques, but going into battle is not smiled upon. In fact, a great princess in the kingdom of Rohan is famous for her fighting skills. The White Lady Eowyn. It may be because she's royalty, but if she has the talent, no one can deny it."  
  
"Strider…" began Miradon, "I am not an archer. My weapon is more…primitive than that."  
  
"What? Knives? Swords? Whips?"  
  
"No. Slings."  
  
"Slings?"  
  
"Slings. It is simply a strap of leather that you fit with a stone and then aim and shoot. It works quite well. I've gotten quite good," she said, with childlike excitement. "I had to practice at night when everyone slept. I practiced hitting tree trunks. If you look right above your head, you can see the notches I made."  
  
It was true; the notches were deep and smooth, as if they had been hit multiple times. In fact, the entire front of the tree was decorated with small, round notches. Strider was amazed.  
  
"I've never heard of anyone using the sling before. I mean, I've heard of it, and I know what it is. But most men, and elves, I know prefer the sword or the bow. Even axes and knives have more appeal than a leather strap."  
  
"I know. I had heard of all these conventional weapons. But a few years ago, for I have only been in Nakyere for, oh, I think ten years, a traveler came through here. He was old, and his brown beard grew well past his knees. He wore rags and walked with the help of a staff, but he still walked with confidence and carried a sword. Well, he did not stay at the inn where my masters were the owners. Instead, he came in for a meal, and paid using his last coin. Unlike the other customers, he wanted to leave me something for my troubles. I insisted that he did not need to, that serving him was my job. He wouldn't hear of it, and asked me to meet him outside after my work was over. It was late, almost sunrise in fact, but I met him right outside the back door of the inn. He showed me his sling, told me how to make one of my own, and instructed me on how to use it. It was an extremely hasty lesson, but I remembered it all. After he left, I managed to steal some scraps of leather and fashion my own sling. I even burned some markings into the straps. They look beautiful but I don't know what they mean – it's just as well. I can't speak elvish, which is the only language I ever wished to learn. I tried to teach myself by eavesdropping on visitors to the inn, but I just don't get it."  
  
"I admire your attempts. I myself still have some difficulty understanding elvish and I've been listening to it for my whole life."  
  
"You grew up with elves?"  
  
"Oh, um…please pardon me. I expected you to tell me your story, without returning the favor. If you could only understand. A Ranger, which is what we all are, is anonymous. We don't speak of ourselves or our pasts and our lives. The name that we call ourselves, you may have heard me speak to Chaser, Ahren, and Jonhe, and Syres, are not our real names. Syres does not speak much, even when spoken to. He is an observer, which is just as well. Rangers are meant to blend in – to enter and leave a situation without anyone truly noticing. I do not wish to tell you about my past, if that is all right."  
  
"We all have secrets, Strider. I understand. If you think I have told you everything about me, you are not as intelligent as I assumed you were. But I am tired now. I heard that we are setting off tomorrow – my first experience out of Nakyere."  
  
Miradon got up and started walking away. Strider's gaze followed her for a few moments, before he looked to the ground.  
  
"Strider."  
  
Strider looked up. Miradon was facing him and she was playing with the necklace that hung around her neck. Strider hadn't noticed it before.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I would like to thank you now, ahead of time."  
  
"Thank me? For what?"  
  
"For saving me. For taking me away from this place. For taking me somewhere where people won't all hate me – I hope."  
  
"You are very welcome, Miradon."  
  
"It's just Mira."  
  
"You're welcome, Mira. Good night."  
  
"Good night."  
  
Mira turned and walked away. Strider's eyes never left her until the darkness enveloped her. 


	5. Leaving Nakyere

After her discussion with Strider, Mira had a hard time falling asleep. No one had ever cared enough to ask her about her life or her past. Not that she had any real friends in town; the other servants were just there to distract her from her own meager life. The whole time she was in Nakyere – which was her whole life, as far as she remembered – Mira always felt like she belonged somewhere else, like she was destined for something different. That old man who had instructed her in using a sling had been her only real friend she had had. He had asked her about her job and how she came to Nakyere. He had also been doubtful when she told him she was an elf.  
  
Sometimes even she doubted it. She didn't feel like an elf, she always felt like a human, maybe even a dwarf. Everyone around her told her that elves were evil and magical, but she never believed it. Whenever anyone spoke of elves, she had a vision in her mind of a beautiful, tall woman, more beautiful than anyone she had ever seen, with long, golden hair and deep, dangerous eyes. This woman did not need to speak to be heard. The sight of her was enough – which was her magic. Mira didn't think that elves could possibly be evil if they all looked like this woman – but she did understand how they could be dangerous.  
  
"Miradon, are you awake?" asked Chaser.  
  
"Yes, yes I am. I was just thinking."  
  
"Well, you better get yourself ready for travel, we're leaving soon."  
  
"But it's not even light out!" she exclaimed, still lying on her blanket.  
  
"Exactly. We travel as far as we can every day, so we will get there faster."  
  
"Get where?"  
  
"Mira…oh, you don't understand do you? It is so rare for five Rangers to be together at once. I think that Strider will perhaps head back to Rivendell, but along the way, we will each leave, some sooner than later."  
  
"But why? You all seem so happy together. Isn't it nicer to travel with companions?"  
  
"Of course it's better, but…"  
  
"But what?"  
  
"But that's not our duty. We must stay alone, we are safer that way. It was difficult for me to understand as well, but perhaps you will gain an understanding on your travels with us."  
  
"Perhaps. Where are you taking me, Chaser?"  
  
"We are taking you north."  
  
"Where north?" she asked, her voice quavering slightly.  
  
Chaser looked down at her, this girl, who was fighting back tears, staring up at the night sky. Although her eye was still swollen shut, Chaser was looking at the side of her face that was relatively untouched.  
  
He drew in a small breath. The way the moonlight was shining down on her reflected the tears in her eyes. Even in the twilight, you could not mistake her eyes for anything other than green. Her thick black lashes framed her eyes beautifully. Her nose was delicate and rounded, and her lips were indescribable. Her lower lip was much thicker than the upper, but both were of a deep rose, gently quivering. Her skin was smooth and pale, but her scars added a freshness and a reality to her that only added to her beauty.  
  
She was not as beautiful as an elf, but there was an aura about her, something about her eyes, that was undoubtedly irresistible. Chaser shook his head to clear it; he couldn't think of her this way. In a few weeks, he'd have to leave the group and he'd never see her again, and he probably wouldn't see his four companions assembled in one place ever again, either.  
  
"Chaser? Are you all right?" Mira looked up at him concerned. She leaned up on one elbow and her shoulder length brown hair fell in luscious waves around her face. The way she was leaning caused Chaser's eyes to drift down to her perfect, smoothly rounded breasts. Chaser caught himself before his thoughts could drift any further. It was just that he had been traveling alone in these southern lands for months, and he was sorely missing the brothels in the cities up north. That was all – he was lonely.  
  
"Yes, yes I'm fine. What was the question?"  
  
"Where are will I be going?"  
  
"Well, uh, I assume that you will, uh, probably go with Strider. Rivendell is, after all, where all of the greatest elves live. Including Master Elrond Half-Elven. I've never met him, but Strider is very close to him."  
  
"Are all Rangers allowed into Rivendell?"  
  
"No, but Strider is indeed special. He's such a natural leader, and well…. no one really knows his past, but is intertwined with Master Elrond's in some way…"  
  
"Chaser," asked Mira, looking up at him, innocently enough, "could you tell me about the Rangers? And about Rivendell? And forests? Please?"  
  
Chaser was yearning to get back to a brothel up north. He wholeheartedly laughed.  
  
"Of course, Mira! But not now, we will be off soon. During the travels, you may have my horse, and as your guide, I will tell you all the wonderful things that you have missed out on living here in Nakyere."  
  
She laughed and her entire face lit up. Chaser choked up slightly at this incredible vision. Her bruises seemed to disappear and the melancholy seriousness about her disappeared with one ring of her laughter.  
  
"Excellent! Thank you, Chaser! I am so fortunate that you found me," almost immediately her sadness returned, "I surely would have died had it not been for you all."  
  
"Chaser!" yelled Jonhe, "Come, we must prepare the horses! Start packing up camp!"  
  
"I'm coming, Jonhe! Will you be all right?"  
  
"Yes, I'll be fine. Hello, Jonhe! How are you this morning?" Her voice became light again. This sudden change in mood was so uncharacteristic of anyone Chaser had known before.  
  
"I'm fine, Miradon, are you feeling better?" asked Jonhe. Jonhe had taken special care of Miradon from the moment they had found her. Miradon greatly resembled his younger sister, whom he had not seen in many years, and he loved having her youthfulness around. She was not particularly talk- active, especially during these first few days. But this past evening, she seemed positively alive.  
  
"Much better, Jonhe, thanks to your excellent care. I'm sorry, I've been hogging Chaser. Will you also tell me stories of the north, Jonhe? And your town?"  
  
"Of course, Miradon." How could he refuse? 


	6. Travels

They had been traveling for almost four days. There were not many other villages in the area except for Nakyere, so they five Rangers and the elf- girl had to be content with each other's company, which they accepted willingly. Mira had never heard amazing stories such as the ones that the Rangers were telling. The most interesting and animated stories, surprisingly enough, came from the mouth of Silent Syres. He came from the far northern-eastern provinces of Middle Earth and his mythologies and fables were more interesting, to all the travelers. Chaser told Mira of the old tales of man, including the ones about Isildur and Isildur's heir. Ahren had traveled with Dwarves, so he was well versed in the histories of the Cave Dwellers. Strider, of course, told of all the Elven songs and tales. Jonhe told the travelers about the most interesting town he had visited, one called Bree, where men and a race of smaller creatures, called holbytlan, or Hobbits, lived side by side. Within the first two days, Mira had learned more tales than she ever knew existed. Not only that, but she remembered each own to its smallest detail. She was more eager now, than she had ever been, to see the worlds and creatures that the men discussed.  
  
On the fourth day of their travels, the companions reached the great river Harnen, and traveled along its coast until they reached the bridge of Harad Road, which would bring them into the actual deserts of South Gondor. They camped out close to the bridge that morning, and Ahren managed to catch two rabbits, and Mira picked some fruits that she could find along the coast, sure that it would be the last time for a long while that fresh fruit could be had. They made the best of their meal, and Mira fell asleep with visions of great Dwarf halls and Elven princes dancing through her mind.  
  
The next morning, they all filled their water canisters and picked fruit and herbs to store in their bags, along with the leftover roasted rabbit. The trek through the desert was uneventful, except for the fact they would have killed each other out of annoyance had they not come upon the Ethir Anduin after almost two weeks straight of traveling thought the desert. Their water had been running out and it was only in the past few days that they had begun to notice changes in their environment. There was more greenery, and the animals they saw were alive, not just bones.  
  
Once they reached the Ethir Anduin, Syres left them to head east along the coast of the river towards South Ithilien and within a week of crossing the river, Jonhe and Ahren left the three remaining riders of Strider, Chaser and Miradon. It was strange being alone now, just the three of them. Miradon took it hardest of all – Strider and Chaser were used to being alone and to saying goodbye.  
  
The first few days after Jonhe and Ahren left, Miradon was truly depressed. She missed Ahren's jokes and Jonhe's paternal nature. She missed Syres's stories and especially the sense of security his strong form always brought her. Not that she didn't enjoy the company of Strider and Chaser, it was just that the group of five Rangers had become her family, the first she had known in so long. They had shared so much during their journey from Nakyere, the only home she had never known. It was hitting her for the first time that if she was suddenly separated from Chaser and Strider, she would be lost in an unknown land, with nowhere to go and nothing to survive on.  
  
"Mira, are you excited?" Chaser was leaning back against a tree, smoking a pipe.  
  
"I think so. I just…I just don't know where I'm going to end up."  
  
"Would you rather have stayed in Nakyere?"  
  
"No, there was nothing for me in Nakyere, but I just realized…there's nothing for me here, either. No family, no friends."  
  
"Don't you think we're your friends?"  
  
"Yes, you're almost family, but…you said yourself Rangers never stay together. Soon I'm going to have to decide…"  
  
"Decide what?"  
  
"Whether to go with you, or with Strider. And I really do think that I would like to see elves, and that way is with Strider to Rivendell."  
  
"Oh." Chaser had not expected her to make her decision so soon. He too had realized that he and Strider must part ways, and the company of Miradon was something they both wanted.  
  
During their month or so of travels, they had truly seen her character. As much as they had taken care of her wounds, she was even more motherly than that. She was the first to wake in the morning, and made sure they all ate something. She made sure their water bottles were always filled and that they always had supplies. It almost seemed as if she could read their minds. When someone was exhausted, she would tell everyone to stop. At first, all the Rangers had suspected that she would be the one to stop and become exhausted easily. But that was not the case. Once her bruises had healed and her scars were sealed, she could walk just as far, just as fast. Ahren had confronted her with her motherly behavior. Was she sure she didn't leave a young child behind in Nakyere? Her answer:  
  
"No, it's just ten years of serving and caring for others. Nothing more."  
  
Her care of them all was excellent, as was her company. She knew the right thing to say at the right moment. No doubt, neither of the men ever once felt uncomfortable around her. Chaser still saw the beauty in her, and Strider saw the insight and emotion – that didn't matter anymore. It was rare that she would reveal anything intimate about herself. She kept them guessing, which was most of her appeal.  
  
They were heading up north at a fast pace. All three had horses now, since Jonhe set out on foot, per usual. They rarely spoke while riding; they saved socialization for the evenings, where they would share a meal around the fire. Mira had never had an experience like this, had never had a family feeling like this. Sharing a meal with someone as equals, that was a completely new experience; feeling comfortable enough around someone to never have an awkward silence, that was completely amazing.  
  
Despite this feeling of belonging and acceptance, Mira knew it wouldn't last for long. Every day of their journey brought her one step closer to making a choice between Strider and Chaser. She trusted them both completely. It wasn't exactly a choice between whom she liked better – she loved them both. It was more a choice between their destinations. Chaser would be heading to Northern Eriador, a tour that would take him through most of Middle Earth; Strider would be heading towards Rivendell, where the elves, Mira's own people, were. She had never seen an elf, other than herself. Sometimes she thought she was crazy, but it seemed that the point of her ears was not always clear. Somedays she seemed like just another human, other days her ears were undoubtedly Elfish.  
  
She did love Chaser and Strider, but there was something she knew she had to do. She could not make the choice – see more of Middle Earth than she had ever dreamed or see elves, something she had only dreamed. She knew what she had to do, but she did not want to. She did not know when she had started, or how she knew what to do, but it drew her back every time. It was addicting, so addicting that it sustained her for a long time. It was a horrible habit she tried to quit, but whenever she had a problem, whenever she was stressed, she turned back to it for comfort. 


	7. Choices

That night, after they had shared their dinner and had finished sharing a laugh about one of Chaser's stories, Mira excused herself.  
  
"Mira, is something wrong?" asked Strider, concerned. Mira, unlike the rest of them, did not like to be alone. In fact, for the first few weeks, she could not sleep, unless one of the Rangers was nearby.  
  
"No, I just need to think about…things."  
  
The two men seemed to accept this explanation. They knew that her final decision would be made soon, and they knew how much this choice was weighing on her.  
  
"Okay, just don't stray too far from camp. The woods in this area are not quite as safe as the fields of Nakyere," warned Chaser.  
  
"Do you mean before or after the orc attack that destroyed it?"  
  
"So you're making jokes about it now? Just stay safe. We don't want to lose you."  
  
"Don't worry," she said, picking up her sling, "I can protect myself, without you big strong men. I'll be back soon."  
  
Mira headed off into the forest behind the camp. She made sure to stay within sight of the fire. She could hear Strider and Chaser's low voices and their deep laughs. She laughed to herself hearing them talk. How could she possibly choose?  
  
I have to do this. If I don't I won't ever know the right choice. It's helped me before, it must help me now. I just…. I just can't let it go too far. If he sees me this time, I don't know what will happen. Oh, Caelia, he better not send them after Chaser and Strider. It's not possible. I just have to put them out of my mind completely.  
  
Mira continued to head away from the camp. She stopped when she could still, barely, glimpse the firelight and could only hear Chaser and Strider if she was completely still and strained her ears. She stuck her sling into the pocket of her skirt, which was still bloodstained and torn. She had tried the best she could to repair it, but she still looked incredibly travel-worn and stained.  
  
She sat down cross-legged on the ground, with her back to the camp, facing the waxing moon. Somehow, the moon and the stars looked larger here than they did in Nakyere. Maybe because she didn't stare at the sky much while she lived in Nakyere, but now she couldn't get enough of looking at the blackness and the sparkling stars and shining moon. It astounded her. She reached her hands up to behind her neck and undid the clasp of her necklace. Every time she did this, she was afraid the clasp would break, but it seemed that no matter how much she tried to rip it off, it just would not leave her.  
  
Her necklace was the one thing that had always been with her, from the moment she arrived in Nakyere, and probably even before that. She had always hidden it under her dress, for she knew that if her masters saw the treasure she was wearing, they would claim it as their own. She did not know how she discovered its power, but she knew that it was valuable. She never questioned her possession of the necklace, she just assumed that it was meant for her.  
  
The necklace hung on a thick silver chain. It wasn't a chain in the sense that it had links. It seemed as though whoever created the necklace had simply sliced off a long, thin piece of silver that bent smoother than a regular linked chain. The silver was bright, and never tarnished; not once in over ten years had she polished it, but it still glowed as bright as the first memory she had of it. The pendant on the chain was even more remarkable. It was about as large as a small coin (nickel-sized) and about as thick as two nickels. The front face of the pendant was not skewered by a whole for the chain. Instead the whole went straight through the side of it. The two faces of the pendant were very distinct. The side that Mira thought was the front was silver inlaid with gold script around the side, and in the center was placed a small, crystal blue gem. It was tiny enough to allow enough room for the script, but large enough so that when Mira gazed into it, it wasn't uncomfortable and she didn't strain her eyes. The reverse side of the pendant was opposite. It was gold inlaid with silver script, but not the same writing as on the other side. And in the place where the gem was on the other side, was a small droplet of gold, with a smaller silver dot right in its center.  
  
Mira treasured it, especially what it could do. Sometimes she thought that the ritual she did was not necessary, and was simply something she added to make it more magical and elf-like. Deep down inside, she knew that it wasn't the ritual exactly, it was the focus that the ritual gave her that was necessary.  
  
She breathed in deeply and let it out slowly. She repeated enough times until she was completely calm and the forest around her faded into a blur. She slowly looked down to the necklace she held in her hands. The pendant was held delicately between her fingers, and she stared directly at the sky blue stone. Almost immediately, it seemed to swallow her, and she shrunk down to no size at all and stepped into the world behind the stone.  
  
She saw Chaser and herself riding along over a bright green field, with thick forests in the distance, and snow-capped mountains rising behind them. "This must be what will happen if I go with Chaser," she thought to herself. It seemed happy enough. They were both riding and they were talking seriously with one another. Mira had almost made up her mind, when Chaser leaned over from his horse and kissed her. She drew her breath in sharply, closed her eyes, and was once again sitting the forest.  
  
"No! No, that can't be right. But it's never lied before!" she thought to herself. That's right, it never lied. So if she went with Chaser, she would…fall in love with him? At the thought of it, her heart fluttered slightly, but her stomach also felt slightly nauseous. The thought of being in love with someone as amazing as Chaser was new to her, and she certainly felt flattered, if it really would happen if she went with him. But somewhere, deep inside, it didn't feel right. She knew it, and he would know it too.  
  
Mira had always felt that certain things were not right. Whenever someone called her Mira, or Miradon, she knew that it could not possibly be her true name. Somewhere inside, she never felt like Miradon. It also felt wrong whenever they had whipped her, which was only natural. The first time she had ever felt like herself, like she was being true to herself, was the first time she had hit a target with the sling. And then, she found herself again, while traveling with the Rangers – but not always. It was those moments when they were all silently riding along, or the moments they shared around the fire. Whenever Jonhe defended her, and she fixed them breakfast; whenever she the tales they told of Dwarves and Elves came to life; and whenever she was by herself, with her friends only a few feet away.  
  
She breathed deeply and tried to regain her focus. Once again, she settled her gaze on the ice blue stone and was, once again, sucked into its world. This time, she saw herself and Strider riding over a shallow river – to Rivendell, her mind told her. Mira felt incredibly happy at this moment. She was coming to Rivendell. But wait! A tall, light-haired elf, looking absolutely stiff and composed came up to Strider. He said something in another language, definitely Elfish. A solemn look almost immediately came over Strider's face and he turned to her and said: "Mira, they won't let you in. You're not like them – you're dangerous."  
  
"No! No! No! That can't be right! It's all a lie, it's all a lie!" Mira got up quickly and threw the necklace into the forest. She became light- headed and had to steady herself against a tree. She immediately regretted what she had done. "No…" she stumbled in the direction she had thrown the necklace. She fell onto her hands and knees and was immediately drawn to the spot where the necklace fell. She grasped it in her muddy hands and looked down into the brightly shining gem, that reflected all of the starlight and the moonlight. And she saw something she had never expected.  
  
At first Mira thought she was still looking at the stone, and it took her a moment to realize that she was gazing into a pair of bright, icy blue eyes. Her breath caught in her chest and her jaw dropped. She could feel a blush creeping into her cheeks and her heart beat faster. No face, no features, just those eyes.  
  
"Caelia! Oh, heaven!" Those eyes were looking straight into her soul. She felt right, she alive, for the first time, looking into those nameless eyes. But then, they started to change. She knew she had looked too far. He was coming to find her again.  
  
The two blue eyes merged into one, and they began transforming from that beautiful, heavenly blue to a deep, burning orange.  
  
"Aaaaaahhhhhhhh!" Mira screamed as loud as she could, and sure enough, she was transported from the other world, back into the forest. Chaser and Strider began running towards her the moment they heard the scream. Strider reached her just in time to catch the swaying Mira in his arms, her necklace intertwined in her fingers.  
  
Strider carried her back to camp, and laid her down by the fire. Within a few seconds, Mira woke up, and was relieved to see Strider and Chaser, her two men, peering anxiously down on her.  
  
"I'm fine, I'm fine…I'm sorry I scared you. I…I just saw a shadow, something moving in the forest. It just startled me," she tried to explain.  
  
Strider and Chaser exchanged questioning glances, but did not press further. They knew that she would tell them what really happened, if she wanted to. And that was the last mention of it. 


	8. On Your Own

The next few days went by smoothly, they were coming further and further north, further towards their separate destinations. Mira savored every moment, for she knew that she would have to make her choice soon – awkwardness or rejection…or blue eyes.  
  
She still couldn't figure out what those blue eyes were, all she knew was how she felt when she thought of them. Thankfully, Strider and Chaser both had deep brown eyes, otherwise Mira was sure she would have lost her mind every time she looked at either of them.  
  
The burning eye always startled her when it appeared during her trances. The first time she saw it, she was sure she was only hallucinating, but somehow she knew that whenever she saw it, it saw her too. And then it would come for her. Whether it was a flock of strange, black birds that were uncommon to the area of Nakyere, or a blazing fire during one of the wettest seasons in Nakyerean history. The latest "message" from the eye had been the orc-attack that had almost killed her. She knew that Strider was still wondering about the orc-attack in Nakyere, the most unlikely place for such an attack. But she could not possibly tell him, or anyone, that the attack was her own fault.  
  
It was cooler in the north, as winter was just ending. Mira was not used to the bitter winds and brisk weather. But she did enjoy seeing the budding flowers and the greenery that she had truly never experienced before. They continued riding, day after day, until at last, it was time.  
  
"Ah! I have missed the air and the life here!" exclaimed Chaser, taking in a deep breath. "But the air in northern Eriador is even sweeter than it is here," he said, casting a sidelong glance in Mira's direction. She noticed, but did not respond.  
  
"Yes, you are right, Chaser. But the sweetness of life in Rivendell is far more nourishing than anything else. Just being around Elves makes one come alive," said Strider, trying to make a joke. They had done this often in the past few days – try to sell the different destinations to Mira. She laughed along on the outside, but inside, every joke only suffocated her. They couldn't see what she had seen, they didn't know. The stone never lied, as unlikely as it was. She had faith in it, more faith than anything else.  
  
"Mira," said Strider, in that concerned tone he always used with her these past few days, "I hope you realize that within the next few days," he exchanged a look with Chaser, "we will be parting ways and it is all up to you. We are both willing to accept you on our travels. We do care about you, Mira."  
  
"Yes, Strider," she said, not daring to meet his eye, "and I assure you that I will make my decision, but I hope you do not require a forewarning of my decision. I may very well make up my mind in the last minutes before we split ways."  
  
"Of course, Mira, of course. I understand. There's no pressure."  
  
'Ha!' thought Mira, 'that's what he thinks!'  
  
Mira awoke refreshed from a long night of deep sleep. The birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and the dew drenched the morning in a rejuvenating freshness. Lazily, she sat up and stretched. A long yawn escaped from her mouth and her hand quickly rushed to her mouth to stifle it. Almost immediately, she got up and looked around for either Strider or Chaser. They would still be asleep, but she enjoyed being the first one awake and having a few moments to herself.  
  
Neither one of her companions was sleeping, but instead both were busy saddling up the horses.  
  
"Morning, Mira," said Strider, "sleep well?"  
  
"Of course, but…what's going on?"  
  
"Well, today is the day. You remember don't you?"  
  
Actually, Mira could not see how she could have forgotten – but she had.  
  
"No, no…of course not," Mira lied, "I just thought…I just…"  
  
"Have you made up your mind yet, Mira?" asked Chaser. She hated it when he got right to the point like that. It was almost as if he could read her mind and couldn't wait to make her uncomfortable.  
  
"Um, well, I'm not quite sure yet. But I promise I will be. When will you be departing?"  
  
Strider and Chaser exchanged glances.  
  
"You have an hour or two, Mira," said Strider, "but we really have to set out soon."  
  
Mira nodded slightly. That distracted look came into her eye, and she wandered off into the wood, without looking back.  
  
Now was the time. She had to decide. She never had to decide her future before. It was simply the same routine day after day, and there was no other way about it. For the first time, Mira would determine which path to take, which way to go, and even though she had always wanted to determine her own future, when she was finally faced with the chance, she just couldn't do it.  
  
"Mira! Mira!" It had been almost two hours since she left the camp. Chaser was worried. He didn't know what choice she would make, but somehow, he thought she would go with Strider to Rivendell.  
  
"Mira! Are you all right?"  
  
"Yes. Sorry. I was just caught up in thought. I'm fine now. Let's go back to camp."  
  
"Have you made up your mind?"  
  
No she hadn't. "Yes, of course. You will find out soon enough."  
  
"Mira! You had us worried!" Strider exclaimed, concerned.  
  
"I'm sorry, Strider, I was just making up my mind. Finally."  
  
"Well?" asked Strider and Chaser in unison.  
  
"I've decided to…"  
  
"To what?" asked Chaser impatiently.  
  
"I've decided to…go on by myself." Even Mira was astounded at her choice. It was one she had never considered, but now that she said it aloud, it seemed the perfect solution to her problems.  
  
Immediately, both Rangers began to spit out reasons why going on alone was dangerous.  
  
"Orcs…attacks…thieves…night…alone…." Mira did not manage to catch a full phrase.  
  
"Strider! Chaser! I understand your concern, and I'm scared too, but…but I think this is best. I've never been able to go my own way, someone has always guided me. And as much as I'd love to travel on with either of you, I think that I need to find my own fate. I'll be fine, I can protect myself…as long as I have a sling and a knife. And I can survive on water and plants, and I can hunt, and I don't really need a map…" with every reason Mira was getting more hysterical, but was also convincing herself more and more that she could survive on her own.  
  
"Mira, calm down," said Chaser, "I understand. We both do. What you want is to live the life of a Ranger, and believe me, I can respect that."  
  
"As can I," said Strider, "you are truly amazing. I never thought that you would decide to go on alone. But if that's what you want."  
  
"It's what I want." 


	9. Advice

Just to everyone who's been reading – any advice on how exactly I should continue…I have a general idea, but your input would be greatly appreciated! I hunger for reviews! Keep em coming!  
  
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Chaser had never seen that look in her eye. It was true, he had not known her long, but it was almost as if he had known her his whole life. She was mysterious, but still predictable, and her sudden decision to continue on her own was completely unexpected. Her eyes were suddenly brighter and her spirit seemed lifted. She had finally found a future, and now that she had committed to it, there was no going back. Chaser knew that she would find it difficult living on her own, something of which she was deathly afraid. He didn't know if she could protect herself because she had never used her sling, but during the journey all five of them had given her lessons in swordplay and archery, as well as some fist fighting. However, she had never put her heart into it, and she refused to throw a punch at anyone.  
  
As much as he tried to deny it, he still had to catch his breath every time he saw her in the moonlight and his heart raced every time she looked at him with those deep green eyes. It wasn't that her beauty overwhelmed him, it was just that presence. Her spirit and her soul were bared when her gaze turned on him, and when the moonlight illuminated her. It both excited and frightened him. For a woman who didn't even try to defend herself, she held more power than he had ever thought possible.  
  
Mira's horse was already saddled, and her cantines were filled. With heavy hearts, Chaser and Strider watched her mount. She looked majestic, almost god-like, sitting erectly on her chestnut colored horse, with her hair tied back with a leather strap, and only a few stray strands falling about her face. Her nose was slightly sunburned from all the days spent travelling in the desert, and freckles she never knew she had were beginning to emerge. Her green eyes glowed even stronger in the sunlight, and the backdrop of thick green foliage only set them off even more. Her blood stained and torn dress was barely visible under a new brown cloak, and her previously bare feet were covered with thick leather riding boots. She was truly a sight to behold.  
  
After drinking in the sight of her, Chaser and Strider reluctantly mounted their own horses. Silently, the three of them trotted side by side for a few more moments, savoring the last few seconds of their companionship.  
  
"Good luck, Mira," said Chaser, "I know you will be just fine on your own. I will be heading north along the coastline. If…if you ever need me…" Chaser's head was down, and he was nervously fingering his tunic.  
  
"I will see you again, Chaser, there's no doubt about that." Mira's voice was sweet and light, but also quavering. Chaser looked up to see tears glistening in her beautiful green eyes. She let out a little sigh, and a tear fell. Almost instantly, she reached over to Chaser and enveloped him in a hug. They took deep breaths of each other: Mira remembering his smell of smoke and forest; Chaser remembering her smell of grass and wildflowers. He remembered the first moment he had discovered her beauty and realized that he could never love her like that. She was his Mira, his dear friend. Nothing more.  
  
They drew away from each other and gazed for one moment into each other's eyes. Strider could see that they came to some sort of mutual understanding. Chaser, as always, was becoming uncomfortable under her penetrating gaze. He laughed.  
  
"Only you, Mira, could bring a Ranger so close to tears!" he exclaimed, successfully hiding his feelings.  
  
"No, Chaser, you are the only Ranger who would ever come so close to tears!" she teased.  
  
"I must be off now. Strider, my friend, I can only hope to travel in your company again, if only to hear tales of Rivendell and the magical elves. You will tell me how it all goes, I hope?"  
  
"Of course, Chaser. It was truly an act of fate that brought us all together. Dearer traveling companions I have never had, and doubt I ever will again." As he was speaking, Strider almost seemed to know that something about his words was not true.  
  
"Farewell, then, my friends," spoke Chaser in a mocking tone, "I must be off to see the great wonders of Eriador. Farewell, my lady, my good sir." With one last tip of his imaginary cap, Chaser tapped his feet on the flanks of his horse, and began galloping off. Mira wished he would turn around just once more, to say one more goodbye, but he never did. Mira doubted her own words, and wondered if she would ever hear his strong voice again.  
  
After watching him ride off into the distance, Mira and Strider turned to each other. Unlike her relationship with Chaser, Mira could not define her relationship with Strider. He was father, brother and friend to her, all at once.  
  
"Mira, I know you made this decision and I know you can travel on your own, but at the same time, I wonder if it's the right choice."  
  
"Strider, I don't know if I can do it. I've never even tried to do something on my own. But I want to. I need to. If I had gone with Chaser, or if I had gone with you…something wouldn't have been right."  
  
"Yes. Yes, that must be true. But Mira, going off alone does not mean you have to live the life of a Ranger."  
  
"I wouldn't even know how. Protecting the innocent, saving lives…after all this time, I still don't know exactly what Rangers do."  
  
Strider laughed. She had a point. "Maybe it's better that way. But I still can't let you go without giving you some fatherly advice."  
  
"Is fatherly advice any better than regular advice?"  
  
"No, I guess it isn't. Never mind that. Mira, do you even know where you're going?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Well, then let me give you some directions. I will continue along this river. It is called the Gwathlo, or Greyflood, and the point where we are at right now is called Tharbad. You can cross the river here if you wish. I would recommend you head west along the river, in the opposite direction I am going. It will lead you straight to the ocean, if that is what you wish to see. If not, continue along the North-South Road, the one we have been taking. It splits soon, but neither road is filled with any more danger than the other. Both roads will lead you to a place called the Shire. The left fork will lead you to another river, the Baraduin, or Brandywine, and the right will lead you to the town of Bree, one that Chaser mentioned many times in his stories. Once you arrive in the Shire, you may choose your own path. I am simply giving you this option because the other choices you have are following Chaser, following me, or going back south to where we just came from."  
  
"In that case, I think I might just take your advice."  
  
"And Mira, I must also say this. Though you say you are an elf, and I believe you, you behave as no other elf I know. Maybe it is simply living in Nakyere for so long, but you are not truly elfish. You're different, Mira."  
  
"I know, Strider." Mira suddenly remembered what she had seen in the stone.  
  
"No, you don't know. You were beaten for being an elf, which is true. In these parts, elves are not rare. They are welcomed. But you, Mira, in their eyes, are not an elf. You are something different, and they fear that. Go with extreme caution. Always keep your weapon by your side. There is elfish enough in you to know when danger is near. You have no money, so stay out of towns. You know how to live off the land, I hope traveling with us has taught you that. Do not mention that you have been traveling with Rangers; unlike elves, we are not welcomed in most parts. If anyone asks you where you're from or where you're going, say that you come from Gondor, which is not a lie exactly, and say that you are on a mission from Gandalf the Grey."  
  
"Gandalf the Grey?" Where had she heard that name before?  
  
"Although he is not beloved, he is respected. You will be safe under that guise. If they press you for further information, state that it is none of their business. Get defensive if you must. Don't be afraid to show that you have a weapon and that you know how to use it."  
  
"Yes, of course."  
  
"Ah, Miradon. My poor elf-slave. I'm sorry. I just don't wish for you to face any dangers. You can enjoy the scenery now. There is no need to travel as fast as we have. If you come across any dangers, if you ever need anything, simply head west to Rivendell. It is a town of your people, they will protect you, and chances are I will be there as well."  
  
Mira remembered what she had seen in the stone. No, she would never need to go to Rivendell. She would only go if seeing Strider was absolutely necessary.  
  
"Strider, thank you. Your advice will not go unheeded." They embraced, long and hard. Mira was the first to pull away.  
  
"I think I should head off now. I wish to see you again someday soon," Mira could not bear another teary goodbye, otherwise she would surely follow Strider, wherever he went.  
  
"Yes. Goodbye, Miradon of Nakyere. May your travels be safe."  
  
"And yours, Strider," replied Mira, "and yours." 


	10. Dreaming

Mira followed Strider's directions almost perfectly. She did head north along the North-South Road. Despite the fact that she had somewhere to go, namely to the fork in the road, her travels were far more difficult than she had ever imagined. When rationalizing her decision in her head, she neglected to mention to herself that she had been traveling with Rangers – the ultimate travelers. They knew how to go through the countryside unnoticed; they knew how to build a fire so no smoke would reveal their location; they knew where to find food that would not be missed by any of the local animals; they knew exactly how far to go in one day and where to rest so no one would discover them. Mira, on the other hand, bumbled through her first few nights alone.  
  
She was not used to building fires outside of a hearth, and her first fire billowed thick black smoke up to the evening sky. She did find berries and nuts, but during the night all of the squirrels, and who knows what other rodents, managed to steal it all from her. While traveling with the Rangers along the road, Mira had miraculously not encountered any other travelers. But, during her travels alone, Mira often had to dive into the bushes on either side of the road when she heard caravans of merchants and other travelers approach. The only beings she had encountered were men, though, and her dreams of meeting an elf or a dwarf had not yet come true.  
  
On her fourth or fifth night traveling alone, Mira was dozing off staring into the dying fire, clutching her sling tightly in her right hand, resting on her side and using her left arm as a pillow, when she had her first dream. Sleep had always been difficult for her, and during the first few nights alone she couldn't manage to sleep at all. Mostly, she only experienced dreamless sleep, and once in a while she would dream of the beautiful elf lady, or of dwarves and elves, especially after her companions shared their stories. At least, Mira thought they were dreams. They were just the daydreams she had before she actually fell asleep.  
  
She was back in Nakyere, in the tree, desperately shooting arrows at the approaching orcs.  
  
"No, leave me alone!" she screamed.  
  
They were clawing at the base of the tree, only a few feet under her. Panicked, she began looking around. Suddenly, she noticed that the tree went even further up. She began climbing, and climbing; she could hear them only a few feet below her.  
  
'Get up, get away,' she kept thinking. She continued scrambling up the tree, until the sound behind her faded away. The top of the tree was still out of sight. She had climbed so far, that the sky up here was as blue as it could be, and white fluffy clouds were all around her.  
  
Finally, she came to the top of the tree. 'What am I doing up here?' she thought to herself. 'There's nowhere to go!'  
  
"My fair Celia, I'm so glad you could join us!"  
  
Mira looked around, shocked to see people sitting around a large, round, oak table in high backed engraved chairs. It seemed that the clouds themselves were the ground, in a huge, ceiling-less hall. An old man, with a long, gray beard and clever, sparkling eyes was waving her over to the empty seat next to him. There were many other people around the table, too many to count, none of whom she recognized.  
  
Reluctantly, Mira walked over and sat. She felt so inadequate with her blood stained and torn gown, among all of these kings and queens, for surely that is what they were. They were all incredibly beautiful, and they all seemed to glow. They were all looking at her and smiling.  
  
"Now, my dear, would you like to get rid of your scar?" asked the gray man.  
  
"Scar?" Mira had many scars, mainly from years of working.  
  
"Yes my dear, the scar on your chest."  
  
Mira was curious. She had never seen her entire body. But she had seen her chest, and all she had there was a birthmark. Mira undid the top of her dress, just enough to see the area of her chest in between her breasts. All she saw was her birthmark.  
  
At the sight of it, all the people sitting around the table stopped smiling and turned to look at each other. Mira had always admired her birthmark. It was interesting and one of the two things she liked owning, the other being her necklace.  
  
It was brownish-red, as all birthmarks usually are, and its middle point was exactly at the middle of her chest, the same distance from each of her breasts, right at the point where her ribs met. There were five lines radiating from that midpoint. The lines were not exactly straight, but almost looked as if someone had tapped her chest with a stake and the five lines were cracks caused by the pressure. Overall, it wasn't very big; she could cover the whole birthmark with her hand if she wished. Sometimes, if one tried very hard to notice the top part of the line that radiated straight upwards could be seen above the neckline of her dress, which was fairly conservative. It almost seemed as if the center of the scar was aimed directly over her heart and the five lines were protecting her heart from anything that could possibly touch it.  
  
"This is only a birthmark," said Mira to the old man, "and my name is not Celia. It is Miradon."  
  
"I think, my dear," the old man said with a smile, "that we know you a little bit better than you do. After all, we made you, Celia. We are a part of you, Celia. Don't leave, Celia….Celia…."  
  
Mira woke with a start. Her hand shot to her chest and covered her birthmark and her necklace at the same time. 'What a strange dream!' she thought. 'So many strange people! They couldn't have been human! Probably elfish…but the most beautiful elves! And what did they want with my birthmark?' Mira lifted her hand and looked down on her birthmark. It was now more dark red than brown, almost blood red.  
  
'How strange,' muttered Mira to herself, 'they called me Celia. If only they said it right, I would have been Caelia.' She laughed at the though. 'Me, a goddess? Now that surely is a dream!'  
  
When Mira awoke the next morning she had forgotten about the dream and continued on. That evening, the same thing happened. She dozed off as she was staring into the dying fire. But, instead of being in Nakyere, she was already seated at the table on the clouds. It seemed as if they had all continued without her.  
  
"But if she doesn't know, then there's no harm," one of the elder male elves was saying.  
  
"If he knows, then that's all that matters. She's not going to the right place. She needs protection," objected one of the beautiful queens, "she does not know her talents. I could protect her."  
  
"Yavanna, you know we can't show her. She must…"  
  
"Ah! Celia! Welcome back!" interrupted the man with the gray beard.  
  
'Not this again,' thought Mira.  
  
"Don't worry, my dear, it won't take long," said the man with the gray beard, seemingly reading her mind. "Where are you going?"  
  
"Nowhere," replied Mira.  
  
"That's always a good destination," responded graybeard, as Mira was now calling him.  
  
"Excuse me, sir."  
  
"Yes, my dear?"  
  
"Who are all these people and why am I here?"  
  
"Oh, dear," mumbled someone at the other end of the table.  
  
"We've done too good a job of protecting her. She knows nothing! She'll surely be killed!" said one of the unknown kings.  
  
"Never mind them, dear Celia," said graybeard. "To answer your question, we are all in your dream, and these people, well, they are simply figments of your imagination. You will never see them in the flesh."  
  
"What about you?" asked Mira, "You seem real."  
  
"Clever child. But, alas, I am also simply someone in your mind. Look around you. Do you notice anything?"  
  
Mira looked at everyone sitting. At first glance, they all seemed like the beautiful kings and queens, who were the sources of the brilliant light. In fact, there was one of everything. On the other side of graybeard sat four dwarfs, and beside them sat two men and two women. All of the others around the table were elves, except for four others on the other side of Mira, all of which were extremely short people with furry feet.  
  
"Why, everyone's here!" she exclaimed.  
  
"Yes, we are all here. But look around you."  
  
"I just did…" started Mira but broke off when she looked behind her. Surrounding the round table was everything. Literally, anything and everything imaginable surrounded them. All different trees, plants, shrubs, weeds; every single living thing, including animals and birds she had never even seen. Curiously enough, none of the animals made the slightest noise, and there was no wind to rustle the leaves of the trees. "Wha…What's all this?"  
  
"As I already said, Celia, we made you. We are a part of you. Whenever you need us, just speak, and we will be there. Wherever you go…we'll be there….Celia…." 


	11. Straight from the Horse's Mouth

For the next two days of travel, Mira could not stop thinking about her dream. What did he mean when he said they were all a part of her? Why did he call her Celia? Why does she need to be protected?  
  
She was so distracted by these thoughts that she didn't even notice when she came to the fork in the North-South Road. 'Excellent,' she thought, 'now I really have nowhere to go.' Suddenly, she heard a noise approaching from the right fork. 'Men, 10 or more, horses, drunk' were all thoughts that came to Mira's mind as she heard them come closer.  
  
Mira dismounted and led her horse into the forest off the side of the road, far enough in to be hidden, but still close enough to observe the travelers. They were obviously drunk, but Mira could not understand their slurred speech. They were laughing loudly and carried half-empty bottles as well as daggers and knives. Mira held her breath in anticipation. 'Please just pass by, please just pass by,' she silently prayed. They were almost directly in front of her now. Suddenly, her horse started to neigh.  
  
"Shhh….shhhh!" Mira urgently whispered. The men stopped. Her horse started to neigh again and the men started to advance to Mira's hiding place. Nervously, she placed her hand on her horse's forehead and thought 'Please be quiet, they're coming!' Almost immediately, her horse hushed and lowered his head. Mira swung her leg over and mounted in a matter of seconds. Without any guidance, her horse galloped straight-ahead, startling the men and knocking most of them over. Instead of going on the road, her horse crossed the road and headed eastward into the forest. The speed at which he was galloping was amazing, and he never slowed until there was enough distance between them and the men.  
  
When he eventually stopped, Mira gratefully tumbled off.  
  
"What just happened?" she exclaimed, gently petting her horse's head. 'You said we were in danger, so I ran.' Startled, she pulled back.  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
"You said danger, so I ran! Was I wrong?"  
  
"No, no it was right but…are you talking to me?" She must be dreaming.  
  
"Horse's don't talk."  
  
"Then how can I understand you?"  
  
"Poor Celia, don't you understand? You are me, I'm in you."  
  
"Why does everyone keep saying that? My name isn't Celia! It's Mira! I'm an elf, not a horse, not a graybeard, not a dwarf!"  
  
"Celia…Mira…whatever you call yourself, everyone knows your story, except for you obviously. Has no one explained it to you?"  
  
"No, would you like to be the first?"  
  
"Oh, me? A humble horse? I've traveled far and wide, but I never expected the great Celia herself to ask me to educate her!"  
  
"Well, I have no idea what you're talking about, otherwise that might just be an insult!"  
  
"Forgive me. Let me see here. How do I explain? All right, here it goes. My name is Fredral – you may call me Fred."  
  
"Nice to meet you, Fred. I can't believe I'm talking to a horse."  
  
"Oh, you can talk with anything. Try the tree."  
  
"Which tree?"  
  
"Pick one."  
  
Mira heaved a sigh, and turned around to place her hand on the birch tree behind her. 'How silly is this?' she thought to herself.  
  
"Ah! What was that?" she shouted.  
  
"Did it speak to you?" asked Fred, eager to see if this really was Celia.  
  
"It's almost fifty years old. It's still young. It wants to be closer to a lake. It was beginning to tell me its life story," said Mira, visibly shaken. "First I talk to a horse, now to a tree! What's wrong with the world?"  
  
"I don't know the details of your life," said Fred, "but you are connected to everyone and everything. Everything good, anyway. That's why they wanted to destroy you."  
  
Mira was suddenly very much aware of what Fred was saying. "Destroy me? Who?"  
  
"Anyone truly evil. They're attracted to you."  
  
"Who? The evil people?"  
  
"Oh, evil anything. People, animals, spirits. But mostly things sent by Sauron. I don't really know why."  
  
"But, Fred…"  
  
"Celia…Mira, you must seek out someone who can answer your questions. All I know is from the stories told to me my entire life. Celia, the great goddess…"  
  
"What?!"  
  
Fred continued. "The great goddess from whom the elves were sprung. At least that's the version that the horses know. The elves have their own tale and their own names for gods."  
  
"But aren't the Valar…Fred? Are you all right?" Mira asked concerned. The horse was now silent. He could only neigh. Mira placed her hand on his forehead again. No longer could he speak, but she could still understand him.  
  
"Fine. We will go to Rivendell…if we must." 


	12. Remembering Mira

"Ah, Aragorn. Your presence was sorely missed. How were your travels?" asked Glorfindel.  
  
"Excellent, my friend. But strange, as well. Tell me, do you know if Master Gandalf has been through here recently? I must speak with him." Strider knew that if anyone were to know the reason for the orc attack on Nakyere, it would be Gandalf.  
  
"No, he's not here, but I do believe he's due for a visit sometime soon. Why don't you ask Master Elrond? He will surely know."  
  
"I'm sure he will."  
  
It had not taken Strider very long to arrive in Rivendell. Once he and Mira had parted ways, he was immediately haunted by images of Mira fleeing from orcs, desperately trying to protect herself. Although his need to discover what happened was not as strong while he was traveling with Mira and Chaser, it reemerged on his travels alone. It was illogical, there was no reason why orcs should have attacked a village that far south, but only Nakyere and no others. Gandalf had proven himself to know most of the on-goings in Middle-Earth – especially the uncommon on-goings.  
  
Glorfindel led Strider up to Lord Elrond's chambers. With every step, the Ranger Strider disappeared and the regal Aragorn, future King Elessar, appeared. By the time he came before Lord Elrond, there was no trace left of the scruffy, live-in-the-moment Strider, in whose skin he was so comfortable. Now he had to put on his noble face and attitude, lest anyone think him anything less than king.  
  
"Master Elrond," said Aragorn, no longer Strider, "how long have I wished to be welcomed into your home again?"  
  
"Too long, my son, too long. How have your travels been?" asked Elrond.  
  
"Exciting as always. But, of course, I have many questions. Speaking of which, do you know if Gandalf will be visiting us anytime soon?"  
  
"I do not know for sure," replied Elrond, clearly interested in whatever Aragorn was speaking of, "but his travels should bring him our way soon. What is so pressing?"  
  
"Oh, nothing important. Just a question. When is the feast?" Somehow Aragorn did not feel comfortable relating everything to Master Elrond, especially this tale for some reason.  
  
"I can read you well, Aragorn, that has not changed. What is your question? I may have an answer as applicable as Gandalf's." The look in Elrond's eye was so intimidating, even for Aragorn, that he must say something, anything to stop it.  
  
"Well, as I was traveling in South Gondor, my companions and I stopped in a village called Nakyere. Do you know of it?"  
  
"Yes, it sounds somewhat familiar. You were traveling with companions?" asked Elrond.  
  
"Yes, it was very strange, but also very welcome. As we arrived in Nakyere, we say evidence of a recent orc attack. I was simply curious as to why there would be an orc attack that far south. It seems so…out of the way of anything important," Aragorn did not wish to elaborate any further.  
  
"Hmm, that is curious. You must forgive me, but I do believe I was wrong. Gandalf will surely have more information than I do. Maybe he will even know where exactly Nakyere is located. Were there any survivors?" Elrond's question caught Aragorn off guard.  
  
"Survivors? Of the attack? Well, uh, there was one."  
  
"And?"  
  
"She died shortly after we found her. There were no other survivors."  
  
"Well, I don't know when Gandalf is returning, but when he does, I'm sure he will have an answer for your query. Until then, let us enjoy your return."  
  
Aragorn nodded along, and followed Elrond to the dining hall. He could not believe himself. Why didn't he want to share the knowledge of Mira with Elrond? What was wrong with him? From the moment Mira had announced her decision to go on alone, he had been relieved that she had not chose Chaser over him. Going on alone was better than going on with that Chaser. 'What am I saying?' thought Strider to himself, 'Chaser is one of my dearest friends. How could I think that?'  
  
As much as he tried to stop, he did feel extremely possessive of Mira. In fact, he had considered turning back to follow her many times. He didn't think it would be difficult, but leaving her was more difficult than he could have imagined. He missed her smile, her laugh. Normally, he would have missed Chaser's company just as much. He truly did not know what was wrong. But Gandalf would know. Gandalf had to know.  
  
************************  
  
Chaser fought the thoughts of Mira everyday. It was a daily ritual – he would wake, consider turning back to find Mira, pack his horse with the intent to do so, but then just continue on his way. Unlike Strider, he had no clear destination, he was simply following his own whims and desires, which made his journey all the more difficult.  
  
It was easy to adjust to the Ranger lifestyle of solitude and silence. He found it easy to ride all day, stop in towns unnoticed, never uttering a word to anyone or anything. Well, it usually was easy. The first few nights after they had parted company, Chaser couldn't help but think about Mira. He remembered the way her eyes shone when he would tell her tales of all the lands she hadn't seen and all the people she had never known. She particularly loved the tales of old, especially prophesies and tales of the Valar. He missed the way her gaze could study his soul instantly, knowing and feeling everything he kept inside. Those bright green eyes that revealed her soul to the world – or did it?  
  
As open as Mira had seemed, there had always been that mystery about her. Chaser missed that most of all. He liked trying to guess her reactions, what would annoy her and what would make her smile. It satisfied him when his guess was right and a comment of his caused her sweet laughter to ring, and in turn make him and Strider smile, as well.  
  
'I would give anything to know her,' he thought, 'to be inside her head, to know her past and her future, her secrets and her hopes. And her fears….'  
  
Never before had he been drawn to any person as much as he had been to Mira. It almost seemed as if she was a part of him. Then again, she made everyone feel the same way. She was the only one to get Jonhe to truly open up and tell of his past. One sweet look from her and any of the normally reclusive Rangers bared all to her. But at the same time, the one she focused her attention on was the object of bitter jealousy from all the rest. They would all have killed to be Mira's focus, to have her look at you innocently, and make you seem special. That was her power. But where was it from?  
  
Her mysteries were what kept Chaser's thoughts on her. If he could only find her again, he would know all about her. That was usually his first thought. Eventually, he would realize that no, Mira could never be explained, which was perfectly all right. 'After all, we all have secrets,' he would say to himself, 'Maybe Mira just has more than others.'  
  
And with that final thought he would continue on, only to return to those thoughts the next morning… 


	13. Falling into Clarion

Mira had been traveling for days in silence. Sometimes she could feel Fred calling to her. Well, not really calling, so much as a nagging feeling in the back of her head that if she would only try harder, she and Fred could start talking again. But after that last conversation, when Fred told her to go to Rivendell, Mira could no longer handle it.  
  
"There's someone.or something else in my head! I must be crazy!" she thought. And yet, she still set out to Rivendell the next morning after her talk with Fred. She had no real desire to go there, even though she knew she must, so her progress was slow. After her first day of travel, she was already beginning to question why she had set out in the first place.  
  
"I know why I didn't go to Rivendell - because I would have been rejected. And I will be rejected when I go there now. Or was I only going to be rejected if I went with Strider?" She couldn't think of the answer. "No, I can't look again, especially after what Fred said. That eye must be evil, I can feel it looking for me. But I need to know."  
  
That is how it came to pass, that Mira sat herself down in a secluded spot, circled by thick, mossy firs with the full moon and brilliant stars illuminating her necklace. She drew in a sharp breath at the sight of it. It's beauty and the knowledge of it's power reminded her of something she had only seen in her imagination - the beautiful elf lady. The way it seemed to glow and almost absorb the moonlight, the way the metal melted under her touch. She was holding power, the greatest power of which she knew.  
  
"I need to know, I need to see the truth," she said, trying to convince herself. Her eyes were shut tightly, and her hands were clenched around the chain. With a deep sigh, her eyes flew open and she drowned in the stone. Only this time, it was a little different.  
  
"Welcome, Sister Caelia. How were your travels? You have been gone a long time."  
  
Mira found herself looking at a beautiful maiden, dressed in a humble brown dress with a crisp white apron draped over the front. Her golden brown hair was tied up tightly in a bun at the nape of her neck and a white kerchief was tied over her head. She held a deep green velvet cloak in her arms - Mira knew that she herself had just handed it over to the maiden - and seemed genuinely happy to see Mira.  
  
"I.I'm not Caelia. This confusion seems to happen too often. Please, you seem to know, why does everyone call me Celia?" Mira feared that she would anger this happy maiden if she said that she were not Caelia, but at the same time, felt like this maiden was the only one who could truly help her.  
  
"Oh my dear. Please, follow me."  
  
Mira followed the maiden as she hurried out of the room they were standing in. All at once, Mira's breath caught in her throat as she glimpsed her first view of Clarion. Stepping out of the tiny room Mira had first found herself in, she found a world beyond anything she had ever known before. The sea before her was immense and all consuming; she had to reach out to the railing before her to steady herself. Never before had she seen a body of water this large before. The water was so powerful it looked almost purple, but the waves crashing onto the shore some fifty feet below her were gentle, almost massaging the bleached white sand on the beach.  
  
After the shock, Mira saw the railing she was holding onto. It was smooth under her touch, and had the texture of.water.  
  
'No, it can't be water,' thought Mira.  
  
The railing was a creamy white color, and it did feel exactly like water, but was not as slippery as water would have been. It felt like water, but had the hardness of marble. At first, Mira thought it might have just been a strange form of marble, but she doubted herself. There was something about it that just wasn't right. And then it hit her.  
  
"It's giving off heat." Mira stuttered out loud.  
  
The maiden turned around and looked at her curiously.  
  
"Well, of course, Celia. This is Clarion."  
  
Mira felt like this explanation was not sufficient to clear up her confusion, but the maiden seemed satisfied with her answer, as if it had suddenly cleared everything up for Mira.  
  
"Please, follow me," the maiden stated once again.  
  
Mira nodded slowly, but had to tell herself to keep breathing as she followed the maiden. From what she could see, Mira decided that Clarion must be a mountain on an island, in the middle of this vast purple sea. The mountain seemed to be made of that watery stone, and all the rooms, hallways, and pillars were carved out of the mountain.  
  
The maiden was leading Mira up the mountain by way of a wide balcony corridor that spiraled all the way up to the mountain. Every ten to twenty feet, a large pillar interrupted the course of the railing that Mira was grasping to for dear life. She began to notice that every pillar was slightly different, but still consisted of the same basic pattern of vines, clouds and stars carved into it. The carvings themselves seemed to be ancient, but they were still as clear and as sharp as if they had been completed yesterday. The floor of the balcony was not overlain with tiles as it appeared. It was almost as if they floor had been dyed certain colors, in certain patterns to resemble tiles. Brilliant blue, deep red, shining green - all these colors formed intricate patterns on the floor, consisting of vines, clouds and stars, just as the pillars. The contrast of the cream white walls with the intense colors of the floor created an effect of the supernatural and of magic.  
  
The maiden did not stop at any of the entrances, most of which branched off into more hallways, which led into many chambers and halls, from what Mira could tell. Of course, the maiden was walking at such a fast pace, that Mira could only catch brief glimpses of what lay in those chambers and hallways. What Mira though most peculiar, was that she did not see another living creature on their entire march up around the mountain.  
  
"Um.excuse me, I do not know your name?" Mira asked the maiden.  
  
The maiden did not stop, but slowed down just enough to walk in step with Mira. Mira looked at her profile, and when the maiden turned to look at her, she caught her eye.  
  
"My name is Eileque Somarne," said the maiden, "but as my superior, you may address me as Eilee." *Eileque = Ay-leh-key *Somarne = Some-arn *Eilee = Ay- lee  
  
"Well, Eilee, where is everyone else? Or are we alone here in.Clarion?"  
  
"As you wish," said Eilee with a nod, and suddenly, Mira was aware of the presence of many other people, dressed similarly to Eilee bustling about in the many hallways, but rarely coming out onto the terrace where Mira and Eilee were walking.  
  
"But.how.Eilee? What did you do?" Mira was dumbfounded.  
  
"We all thought that since you weren't quite yourself, some silence would be best for you. It was a simple spell, but it was just lifted. For your comfort, anything." At this, Eilee began hurrying up again. Mira found it harder and harder to keep up with her.  
  
"Um, Eilee, I have another question," Mira began, but paused when she saw the look of annoyance on Eilee's face.  
  
"Yes?" The smile on Eilee's face was clearly strained.  
  
"Where exactly are we going?"  
  
"We are going to see the master and mistress of Clarion. Naturally."  
  
"Oh.was I supposed to know this?"  
  
The smile was quickly gone from Eilee's face.  
  
"Caelia, I know you used to have a queer sense of humor, but this is just going too far. I pray to the master that you are simply playing a joke and haven't actually lost your memory. You are vital to us all, and your knowledge is indispensable. Oh, Caelia, my poor child, end this game and come back to us!"  
  
And suddenly, Mira found herself being sucked out of the world of Clarion, with the tears and anger in Eilee's eyes as her last memory. 


End file.
